fic: "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" by belmanoir (Ray/Ray, R)
Title: I Wanna Hold Your Hand
Author: belmanoir
Pairing: Ray/Ray
Rating: R
Word count: 1,465
Summary: Ray and Ray walk down the street holding hands. Stuff happens.
Author's Notes: Based on this snippet of dialogue thought up by me and mrs_laugh_track. Because that's what happens when we hang out (look out, world, there's a Twitch City/due South crossover OT3 fic on the way!). She also beta'd.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, and I am making no money off this.


Ray and Vecchio are walking to some four-star French restaurant called--but let's be honest here, Ray has about as much chance of saying it right as he does of teaching his turtle to play the accordion. At least it's not too far, and walking is definitely the way to go because on their six-month anniversary they drank so much champagne they had to leave the Goat downtown and someone stole Ray's battery.

Ray wanted to stay in tonight, celebrate just the two of them, but he doesn't really mind. He probably will in a couple hours, but he hasn't had to eat any French food yet. His tie hasn't started to strangle him, and the novelty of wearing his suit hasn't worn off. He feels crisp and sexy, and even though he would never tell Vecchio, he likes seeing Vecchio all dolled up. Especially in winter. He loves Vecchio in winter, with his funny little hats and long elegant coats and those leather driving gloves that leave Ray torn between snickering mercilessly and running to the supply closet to jerk off.

Vecchio catches him staring and winks. It's cold outside, fucking freezing, Vecchio's cheeks are pink and his breath is hovering in the air, but Ray feels warm through and through. He reaches out and grabs Vecchio's hand, swinging it as they walk down the street, their steps in perfect sync.

They pass a guy leaning against the riot gate of a hardware store. "Faggots," the asshole mutters loudly. "There oughta be a law."

Vecchio doesn't even blink. His hand tightens on Ray's, but Ray's pretty sure that's just to stop Ray from doing what Vecchio knows he's going to do. They've had this argument a million times, Vecchio explaining that he doesn't care what anyone says, and besides he's not a girl and he doesn't need Ray to stick up for him, for them, to anybody. Whatever. Ray watches people try to hurt Vecchio at work five or six days a week, and he doesn't beat the shit out of them because he's a good cop. They aren't at work now, and Ray's got extra energy that needs to go somewhere, and he'll be in an even better mood once he's straightened out this dickwad. "This'll only take a second," he tells Vecchio, and turns to the homophobe.

"Hey, you got a problem with two guys fucking?" he asks. "You know, I got a problem too. I got a problem with not having kicked you in the head yet! Come on, let's go!"

He tries to pull his hand out of Vecchio's, get in the guy's face, but Vecchio's got him in a death grip. "We do not have time for this right now, Kowalski. We have reservations. It usually takes a year to get reservations at this place." He smirks. "Lucky for us, I know a guy."

It's pretty clear Ray's not getting his hand back any time soon, and the prick's looking kind of scared, so maybe he'll let this one slide. Ray points a couple fingers on his free hand at the guy. "Lucky for you, pal!"

As soon as he's sure Ray is gonna behave, Vecchio drops his hand like it was something Fraser would want to lick and starts off down the street. "God, Kowalski, sometimes I think you only hold my hand when you want to pick a fight," he says, and Ray stops short.

Because that wasn't Vecchio's normal I bitch, therefore I am tone of voice. He's being serious. Ray feels an edge of panic. Has he really fucked up their anniversary dinner this early in the evening? Yeah, he's picked a fight almost every time he and Vecchio hold hands. But it's not his fault the world is full of assholes, right? Besides, he holds Vecchio's hand when he's in a good mood, and that's when he feels like picking fights. Course, he also picks fights when he's in a bad mood. And bad moods make him want to hold Vecchio's hand.

Okay, so maybe picking fights and holding Vecchio's hand are both things he wants to do pretty much all the time. But doesn't Vecchio know which he wants more?

Either Ray's freak-out hasn't lasted long, or Vecchio's waiting for him, because he's only about five feet ahead on the sidewalk. "Hey," Ray says, hurrying to catch up. He gets hold of both Vecchio's hands this time, tugging him to a stop. "I wanna hold your hand."

Vecchio rolls his eyes. "Sure you do, Kowalski."

"I do! And when I touch you I feel happy insiiide," Ray sings, trying to pull Vecchio into the mashed potato. Vecchio doesn't join in, but he doesn't look away either, he lets Ray tug him a little closer. Even though his eyes are still suspicious, his mouth is curving into that soft little smile Ray's pretty sure no one gets to see except people Vecchio is in love with. That smile is Ray's favorite thing in the whole world. "It's such a feeling that my love I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't--"

There are fake vomiting noises from the homophobe, behind them. "Go screw yourself, fuckface," Ray says loudly. He doesn't take his eyes off Vecchio's smile. "Come on, Vecchio, let's go eat snails."

"It's escargot, you doofus," Vecchio says, heading off down the street with his hand still in Ray's. "And your singing sucks."

"Isn't that French for snails?" Ray asks, their steps matching up again, the leather of Vecchio's glove smooth under his fingers.

"It's snails with butter," Vecchio explains, and Ray snickers and admits that does make a difference.

###

"I thought you knew a guy," Ray can't resist saying as they head back down the steps of the restaurant. Because sure enough, no reservation. Ray does not understand how Vecchio did undercover. He's a fan-fucking-tastic actor, but he has zero people skills. He has negative people skills. Ray has yet to see him come up with a single reliable snitch. In this case, whatever guy Vecchio knew is long gone with Vecchio's cash. Ray hopes it wasn't a lot.

"I am going to kill that fucker," Vecchio fumes.

"Your connection or the maitre d'?" If he'd let Vecchio make a scene like he wanted they probably could have gotten a table. Ray does like watching Vecchio make a scene. But he also didn't want to eat French food, and he especially didn't want to eat French food while being glared at by the entire restaurant. "Come on, burgers and milkshakes, my treat."

Vecchio glares at him. He's still glaring when they sit down at the diner with their food. Ray leans back in the booth until his wingtip touches Vecchio's, spreads his legs, feels the fine wool slide against his skin. "We totally had time to beat that guy up," he says. "Do you think he's still there? Maybe we should go back and see."

"Just eat your burger, Kowalski."

He leans forward, talks so only Vecchio can hear. "Do you think if I blew you in the bathroom, someone would queer-bash us? Then I could beat them up."

Vecchio rolls his eyes, but he's starting to smile. "Sometimes I think you only offer to blow me in the bathroom when you want to pick a fight."

Ray shrugs. "And please say to me you'll let me be your man," he sings quietly, and slides his toe up the back of Vecchio's calf.

Vecchio looks indecisive and turned on. "What will I do with my coat?" he asks. "I'm not leaving it out here, and there weren't any hooks in the men's room last time I was here."

"Oh, I was planning to kneel on it." Ray snickers at the look on Vecchio's face and loosens his tie, which is just starting to strangle him. Vecchio's gaze shoots right to his hand. Ray unbuttons his top button, too, just for the hell of it.

Vecchio's eyes darken, and he sighs. "I wanted to take you someplace nice for our anniversary," he grumbles.

Ray doesn't remind Vecchio that he loves hamburgers and hates French food, and that he's pretty sure Vecchio does too. "Take me someplace nice for dessert. I've got a craving for cannoli." He leers.

Vecchio laughs. "Fine," he says, standing up and heading for the bathroom. "I know a place, they have five different kinds of cream, they put it in the shell while you watch so it doesn't get soggy. Plus they have the best napoleons you ever tasted, and these little cream pies with strawberries on top that are--" He lapses into Italian while Ray locks the door so no homophobes can get in and carefully hangs Vecchio's coat over the side of a stall.